Ooof! I missed this yesterday. I wouldn't want to miss an opportunity to extol the many, many virtues of both slacking, and of being a member of that most venerated class of person "the middle-aged slacker". Now, some may say "Ursus, you fool!" - and just stop there, because, well, it's short and accurate and so why complicate it with other thoughts...but others would go on to say "...you fool, being a middle-aged slacker isn't a good thing!" but I say that it is. Being a middle-aged slacker means shit-posting during commercial breaks for a TV show you are barely interested in. It means saying things you may not even think just to see if it gets a rise out of somebody. It means you've got great stories that you insist on telling because you were alive to experience the Satanic Panic in real-time - and MOST of all, it means you've spent enough time listening to an album (that used to be a thing) to think about and appreciate the way that the final, frenetic notes of "Juke Box Hero" shift immediately into the opening single piano notes of "Break It Up" on Foreigner's "4", creating a moment of it's own, that can only truly be appreciated when you hear it played that way. That shit matters, man. It matters, and only only the truly middle-aged slackers and those few who study their ways understand why.
May your skis ever be waxy. Turn it up, and Slack on.